


A Show of Affection

by missmichellebelle



Series: The Fox and His Hound [2]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Affection, Alternate Universe, Animal Ears, Animal Traits, Fluff, Fox Ian, Husky Mickey, Hybrids, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-13
Updated: 2014-09-13
Packaged: 2018-02-17 07:30:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2301518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmichellebelle/pseuds/missmichellebelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And then, Ian presses his thumb at the base of Mickey’s ear and gently scratches it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Show of Affection

**Author's Note:**

> **Tropetember** is a month long event where the goal is to write a fic fulfilling a different trope/AU every day (except Sundays apparently whoops). If there is a specific trope/AU you would like to see, please [drop me an ask on tumblr](http://missmichellebelle.tumblr.com/ask).
> 
> I spent too much time researching fox grooming. _Way_ too much time.
> 
> This is really short and fluffy and stupid. I wanted to do a new hybrid verse part and then was like, "I have no ideas fuck (ʘ‿ʘ✿)" so this is what you get I guess.

Mickey’s mood is about as predictable as the weather. Sometimes he’s blue skies and sunny for a whole day, and other times a freak thunderstorm will show up seemingly from nowhere. But Ian’s learned to roll with it—after all, he has his own weather system that Mickey has to contend with. It makes sense that when they collide, they make hurricanes.

Today is one of those days when everything seems precarious, at best. The house is blissfully quiet enough that Ian can sit on the couch and channel surf and enjoy a rare morning off, the reminder in the back of his mind how fragile the moment is. As if even the smallest of things could shatter it.

When Mickey comes down the stairs (Ian can hear his feet, but he can _smell_ him more, always knows where Mickey is in the house based on how strong or faint his scent gets) slowly, lazily—almost lethargically, really—Ian keeps his eyes on the TV. Mickey still doesn’t trust his family, and rarely comes downstairs unless he knows they’re gone (and he knows, the same way Ian knows). It’s another one of those _anything could break this_ moments, and so Ian keeps as still as possible, waiting for the proverbial crash.

What he gets instead is a lapful of warm, tired husky hybrid. Which is just as shattering in an entirely different way.

Mickey collapses onto the couch more than drapes himself across it, and his head lands right in Ian’s lap, making Ian’s entire body twitch with the force of his start. He holds his hands up awkwardly, looking down at Mickey who rearranges himself to pillow his head on his arms but… Otherwise doesn’t move. Ian can read in the tense line of his spine and the stillness of his ears that Mickey is waiting for Ian to say something, to bring attention to what Ian can only describe as a blatant display of affection (at least in terms of Mickey).

So Ian doesn’t say anything. Let’s his body relax, settles one hand on the arm of the couch and the other (daringly) on the dip of Mickey’s waist. When Mickey doesn’t snarl at him, Ian figures it’s okay.

“What the fuck are you watching?” Mickey mumbles, and Ian realizes that he’s ended up on some random infomercial, his channel surfing distracted by Mickey’s sudden appearance.

“Not this,” Ian replies, and then continues flipping channels. He pauses for a second on Sex and the City (not because he’s ever really watched it—a few episodes, here and there) just to fuck with Mickey, and continues until he finds something neutral and mindless: Storage Wars.

Ian had really only turned on the TV for noise. With five siblings, and neighbors that are practically family, he’s used to there always being _something_. Without it, his ears seem to strain for the closest sounds—someone closing a car door down the street, the ping of a microwave in a nearby house, the thrum of Mickey’s beating heart. That sound he doesn’t mind so much, and finds himself listening more to that than the garble of noises coming from the television. His thumb absently brushes back and forth over the thin material of Mickey’s shirt.

It’s lulling, in a strange way. Ian’s never liked how, if he tried hard enough, he could hear the beat of a person’s heart. It made him feel like some sort of monster. But listening to the steady, constant rhythm of Mickey’s is just… Calming. Like a reminder that he’s close by, even if all of Ian’s other senses can already confirm it.

Tipping and tilting his head against the back of the couch, Ian looks down at Mickey in his lap. His ears occasionally twitch, like they’re picking up noises from far away, and Ian briefly wonders if Mickey ever listens to his heart, too. Ian’s never really looked at another hybrid like this before, watching where the fur of their ears overlaps and turns into hair, where the animal skin turns into human. If Ian didn’t have ears of his own, it might even be a little too bizarre to look at this closely. Maybe like the way Ian kind of looks at human ears, as if they shouldn’t be there.

But this isn’t strange to Ian. It’s more familiar and normal than… Well, what he’s generally surrounded by.

The idea appears so quickly in his head that he’s sure it must have been there the whole time, especially with how his hand is moving before he can think about what he’s about to do. Ian’s hand settles heavily on the back of Mickey’s head, and Mickey tenses up again as Ian combs his fingers through Mickey’s hair a few times. Ian knows he’s pushing his luck, but… He has a habit of doing that. And then, Ian presses his thumb at the base of Mickey’s ear and gently scratches it.

A shudder ripples down Mickey’s body at the touch, and it makes Ian’s hand still in surprise.

“Don’t say a fucking word,” Mickey mumbles darkly, and Ian can’t help but smile down at the indignant glare he can’t see but that he knows is there. But Mickey doesn’t pull away, doesn’t stalk off somewhere, and that’s as close as Mickey really gets to saying, _this is okay_.

So Ian pets him. Drags his fingers experimentally over the fur—it’s so much _softer_ than his—before rubbing at them again, and Mickey twists his face into his arm, pushing his ear closer to Ian’s exploring fingers. As much as he tries to muffle the sound, Ian’s hearing is too sharp, and he can hear (and _feel_ ) the groan that rumbles in Mickey’s throat. A few seconds more of Ian’s gentle attention, and Mickey’s tail begins to thump lazily against the couch.

Ian grins like the cat that caught the canary (or, in this case, _fox_ —do foxes even chase canaries?). Because Mickey is letting Ian _pet_ him, and Ian isn’t going to ignore the significance of that. Petting is one of those _things_ , one of those blurred lines that people, more often than not, don’t cross. Because petting is an _animal_ thing, and if hybrids allow _that_ , what else will pure humans try to propose? Leashes? Special food? It’s better to just _not_.

But that doesn’t mean they don’t like it. When Ian was little, Fiona used to pet his ears when he was upset, until she found out that she wasn’t supposed to _do_ that and Ian was too young to understand that he could say, “No, it’s okay.” So he didn’t. And then it becomes the _thing_ , and suddenly giving people permission to touch his ears, or his tail, is a vulnerability.

A vulnerability that Mickey is giving Ian, and that Ian didn’t even _think_ about when he reached for the husky’s ear.

Ian wonders if anyone has ever pet Mickey before. When he thinks about how he found Mickey, it’s hard to imagine that anyone was ever gentle with him like this. That anyone ever showed him any affection. But there’s no way he can tell for sure—it’s not something that Mickey brings up or talks about, and it’s something Ian thinks he shouldn’t force.

At least, not yet.

Ian can feel Mickey’s body relaxing, becoming heavier, like Ian’s touch is putting him to sleep. For some reason, it feels like the best time to test these new boundaries. He leans down with the full intent of just gently pressed his lips to the fur of Mickey’s ear—he wants to, but Ian sort of wants to drag his mouth all over every inch of Mickey and he’s not sure if it’s a _hybrid_ thing or a _teenage boy_ thing.

What he does instead is dart his tongue out against the fur, before nipping lightly at the thin skin of the ear.

Mickey is alert almost instantly.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He actually twists his head to stare up at Ian, and Ian is still bent over, keeping their faces close.

Ian blinks at him, opens his mouth, closes it again, and then furrows his eyebrows.

“I… I don’t know.” It was like once Ian was close enough, his mouth had just done what had felt _right_. Mickey stares at him quizzically (which still manages to look like some kind of glare), and then twists his head back around, body not as loose as it was moments before but not tense anymore. Ian waits a few seconds, and then goes back to petting Mickey’s ears, still mulling the taste of his skin around in his mouth.

“…you can do it again,” Mickey mumbles quietly. “Or whatever.”

“I can?” Ian can’t help but ask, surprise evident in his voice, and he can hear Mickey’s growl.

“I don’t give a shit, all right? So can you shut the fuck up? I’m watching this.”

Ian has no idea what’s on TV anymore, and he has the faint idea that Mickey doesn’t, either. But he let’s it go, leaning down to skim his nose against the fur of Mickey’s ear and smiling at the feel of it. He can feel the tiny shiver that Mickey tries to contain, and wonders what it feels like as he nibble-licks the skin again.

From the way Mickey’s tail is wagging, and the way he pushes up after every nip, Ian figures it must feel pretty fucking good.

**Author's Note:**

> [Read, Reblog, & Like on Tumblr](http://missmichellebelle.tumblr.com/post/97429719055/a-show-of-affection)


End file.
